


Can't Wait for You to Shut Me Up

by callmejude



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the kink meme prompt: "Hermann tells Newt to shut up, Newt tells Hermann to make him. They make out. That's the prompt."</p><p>(That may have been the prompt but I admit to it going much further than that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’s thinking out loud again. 

Hermann understands that this is the way some people work through problems, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing Newton used any other process, at least when sharing a lab with him. He’s insufferable, really, even when he’s leaving Hermann alone he still manages to get under his skin.

“Hey Hermann,” Newton shouts, and Hermann rolls his eyes. So much for being left alone. “Did you know a kaiju’s liver is behind its breastplate? Like where our hearts are. Isn’t that weird? I think that’s weird.”

“Yes, Newton,” Hermann sighs resignedly, “very _weird._ ”

“Remember when you asked me why kaiju don’t get the bends from coming up to the surface so fast?”

“I do not recall ever asking you _anything,_ ” Hermann says, “Certainly not a question like -”

“Maybe it was Tendo,” Newton interrupts, “But anyway the reason is because they’re silicon-based, right, and the other day I was watching _Devil in the Dark_ that old Star Trek episode with the silicon-based alien that looked like a pizza.”

“Yes, Newton I -” Hermann cuts himself off, refusing to admit he knows anything about Star Trek. Newton would never let him live it down. “Does this tirade have a point?”

“Not really, I just think it’s interesting. I remember taking a class on the theory of silicon-based life forms in college way before the kaiju existed, it was all because of that Star Trek episode.”

To Hermann’s abject horror, Newton abandons what he’s doing to wander over to Hermann’s side of the lab and lean against his desk. “Like, how cool is that? Gene Roddenberry’s like a fortune teller, you know? He just predicted so much cool stuff.”

“Mm,” Hermann says, not listening.

“Like isn’t it weird how the communicators looked so much like early cellphones?”

“Not really,” Hermann answers, “Because the design was probably taken from sci-fi television, like our computers.”

Newton grunts, and Hermann assumes he’s about to ignore him entirely. “Okay, but you can’t use that excuse for the aliens.”

“No, but I can blame that on the fact that it is obviously possible and Mr. Roddenberry was smart enough to realize it. You said yourself you’d taken a class based in the theory.”

“Yeah, but that class didn’t exist before that episode of Star Trek. No one had really thought about it before.”

“Just because there hadn’t been a college course on the -”

“I still think Gene Roddenberry is probably a way bigger genius than we give him credit for. Like I’m not saying he’s Stephen Hawking, but -”

“Newton,” Hermann hisses, turning on his heel, “I understand that you find it nearly impossible to have a thought without sharing it with the world but I have a lot of work to do so if you would please _shut up._ ”

Newton hops off his desk and strides up to him, smirking in that self-satisfied way he always does when he thinks he’s smarter than Hermann is. “Yeah?” he says, getting alarmingly close to Hermann’s face, “Make me.”

It’s the distance that makes him do it. He’s so close, right in his face, chest nearly touching Hermann’s, and he’d said _make me_ in a voice so much lower than his usual pitch, egging him on, really, he doesn’t even realize he’s thinking about doing it until he’s already done it.

He crowds Newton back against his desk until he runs back up against it with a yelp. “Fine,” Hermann growls, leaning down and kissing him.

Newton goes rigid with a muffled squawk, and Hermann bites his lip. Newton remains frozen long enough for Hermann to reach around the back of his neck and squeeze.

Like flipping a switch, Newton melts, opening his mouth at the swipe of Hermann’s tongue. Hermann presses into him and Newton takes the hint, hopping back onto the desk without breaking the kiss, one hand reaching up and snatching a fistful of Hermann’s sweater to pull him closer.

Hermann stumbles forward, hand clenching around Newton’s neck again, and Newton hums into the kiss, almost a moan. Curious, Hermann digs his nails into Newton’s nape, tipping his head back to deepen the kiss, and Newton shivers.

When Hermann pulls back, Newton whimpers, but Hermann only wants to move down to bite his throat. Newton’s breath catches, soft but unmistakable, and Hermann bites down harder. Newton’s free hand flies up and clenches in his hair.

He moves back to Newton’s mouth, which is slack and waiting, and feels bolder when he responds greedily, hand in his hair pulling him closer, hand in his sweater keeping him pressed against Newton’s chest. Hermann props his cane against the desk and wraps his arms around Newton’s back, untucking his shirt from his pants to run a hand up his bare back.

Newton lets out a quiet sound that Hermann swallows, biting his lip to elicit another. Newton wraps his legs around Hermann’s waist and pulls him impossibly closer. He’s breathing raggedly into Hermann’s mouth, but when Hermann pulls away to try and let him catch his breath, he leans forward to continue the kiss.

Newton rucks up Hermann’s shirt, which Hermann protests with a loud huff until Newton bows his head to kiss his chest, his hand rolling flat and solid over his back.

“Newton -”

It’s the first thing either of them has said in minutes, and Newton looks up, startled. Hermann watches his face, noticing with soft flip of his stomach that his pupils are dilated, and he’s a pronounced shade of pink. 

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that, breathing hard in each other’s space, before Hermann leans forward again, pulling Newton back into the kiss with a quiet gasp.

It’s different this time, softer. Hermann can feel hesitance in the way Newton kisses back, nervous. Hermann cards his fingers through Newton’s hair and feels a prickle in his stomach at the way Newton sighs into his mouth.

His leg is starting to ache from being in the same position for so long, so Hermann leans to his left, resisting the urge to smile when he feels Newton follow him reflexively. He moves away and buries his face into Newton’s neck.

Newton lets out a soft breath that sounds like the beginning of Hermann’s name, but he cuts himself off and falls silent. Hermann doesn’t know how to interpret Newton like this. He doesn’t think Newton has been this quiet this long in all the previous years he’s known him combined.

Before Hermann can panic, he remembers suddenly what started this. The quick, teasing exchange that caused the first domino to fall.

Newton is being quiet because Hermann _told_ him to be.

He tries to squash down the thrill that runs up his spine. Wildly, he wonders what more he can do. 

Still nuzzled into Newton’s throat, Hermann says aloud, as if to remind them both, “We have work to do.”

Newton nods, but his hands are still gripping at Hermann, and he isn’t trying to move.

The words leave Hermann’s mouth before he can think them through. “You will report to my barracks at zero-hundred hours.”

Newton nods again, this time he squirms. Breathlessly, he whispers, “Yes, sir.”

Hermann feels as if his blood has suddenly caught fire. For a moment, the work they have to do feels entirely unimportant. He tips Newton’s head to the side to bear his neck, watching Newton follow easily before leaning forward to press his lips to Newton’s ear. 

“You will not speak unless spoken to and you will do exactly as I say.”

Newton shudders and nods. Hermann can feel him trembling. “Yes - yes, sir.”

Hermann slides a hand between Newton’s legs, eyes widening when he realizes Newton is already half-hard. He brushes his fingers over the length of his dick, smirking when Newton lets out a shaky breath.

“Good boy,” Hermann says gently, placing a chaste kiss on Newton’s jaw as he continues to stroke him through his jeans. Another tense few seconds pass while Hermann contemplates the idea of fucking him now, despite all the work that needs to be done, but he lets the thought go. “Now, get back to work.”

Even now, he’s expecting Newton to argue. At the very least, he expects him to whine or keen and press against him, since his hand is still sliding over the front of Newton’s pants. Newton, however, only nods and lets his legs fall from around Hermann’s waist. “Yes, sir.” His words slur together, and Hermann wonders if he’s even capable of standing up without another body to support him.

Hermann steps away, and Newton walks, albeit a little shakily, back to his desk.

Newton doesn’t say another word the rest of the night.

At the very stroke of midnight, there’s a knock at Hermann’s door, as if Newton had been waiting outside for some time. When Hermann swings his door open, Newton is standing there, staring at his shoes.

Hemann clears his throat. “I am not into any serious pain or tortures,” he says flatly, “but I would still find comfort in assigning you a safeword.”

Newton looks up at that, glancing nervously down the hall as if afraid someone will overhear this conversation. Hermann follows his eyes out of reflex before continuing, “I prefer the colour system, if that’s all right with you. ‘Yellow’ for slow down, ‘red’ for stop, nice and simple. Agreed?”

Newton meets Hermann’s eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze back to his shoes. “Yes, sir.”

“Effective now, is that agreed?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hermann nods. “Were you waiting outside my door like a dog?”

Newton lets out a breath. “Yes, sir.”

Hermann nods again. “For how long?”

Newton swallows. “Marshall ordered lights out at 2300 hours.”

“I don’t believe that’s the information I asked you, Newton,” Hermann says pointedly. 

Newton nods again, vigorously this time. “A - about thirty minutes,” he answers. “I - I just wanted...to make sure I was on time.”

Hermann raises an eyebrow, but accepts it. “Good boy,” he says, “Come inside.”

Newton darts into Hermann’s room, his eyes still cast to the floor. Hermann gestures to Newton. “Strip naked,” he says, a sharp edge to his voice, and Newton moves so quickly he nearly trips over himself trying to get out of his jeans.

Once he’s naked he shifts as if to get down on his knees, but freezes, realizing Hermann hadn’t told him to do so. He looks at Hermann, and Hermann nods. Newton hits the floor as if he’s been pushed, keeping his head down.

Hermann had never realized that Newton’s tattoos covered his entire body. His eyes linger on the depiction of Hundun splayed across his right thigh.

“You’re very well trained,” Hermann says, keeping his tone light and firm, “You’ve done this before.”

Newton nods without looking up. “So have you,” he says quietly before hastily adding, “...sir.”

Hermann wants to scold him for being out of line, but he’s caught off-guard, and smirks. _Only twice_ he wants to say. He hasn’t had many partners to begin with, even fewer ones he felt comfortable enough to establish any control. He runs a hand through Newton’s hair, tugging it lightly to force him to look up. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-one, sir.” Hermann raises his eyebrows, and Newton takes it as a sign to elaborate. “My first girlfriend was a sex therapist. Suggested it as a way to - to help control my…”

“Manic episodes?” Hermann suggests abruptly. Newton looks at the floor and nods. Hermann finds it odd that he could be embarrassed by it, but still feels bad for being so blunt. He pets gently at Newton’s hair. “It’s all right,” he says awkwardly, “There’s nothing…” he wants to tell Newton there’s nothing wrong with him, but he knows how Newton will react to that, so instead he says, “And it worked?”

Newton nods. “Yes, sir.”

“How long has it been?” Hermann asks, and Newton smirks.

“Three years, eleven months, and six days.”

Hermann does the math in his head. “Not since you joined the PPDC.” He cards his fingers through Newton’s hair, noticing with a bit of a thrill that Newton is starting to respond to his touch. “You’re quite needy at this point, then, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Newton’s breathing is gradually getting heavier. He squirms a little every time he answers a question. Hermann’s hand hasn’t traveled past Newton’s scalp and he’s already getting hard.

“You’d take it from anyone,” Hermann tells him, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. 

It’s not a question, but Newton shakes his head. “No, sir.”

Hermann isn’t expecting that. He blinks, and Newton meets his eyes, just for a second. “Wanted this.” He clears his throat. “You.”

Hermann’s blood goes hot in his veins again. He clenches a fist in Newton’s hair and pulls. Newton cries out and his hips jerk and stutter. Hermann narrows his eyes. “Have you thought about me when you masturbate?”

Newton shivers, anticipating something. “Yes, sir.”

Hermann toys with the collar of his own shirt with his free hand before deciding to stay dressed. “Tell me.”

At first, Newton speaks clearly. His voice is overlayed with shaky breaths, but is more or less steady when he starts, “I used to think about blowing you under your desk while you worked.” Newton licks his lips before he continues, “Making you come down my throat, then keeping your cock warm until you’d make me get back to my side.”

Hermann feels heat pool in his belly as Newton keeps talking, his writhing becoming more consistent. “Think about you collaring me, putting it on me when I get too loud, or - or too anything. Telling me to sit and stay.” He takes a deep breath and adds, “In...in front of the Marshall.”

Hermann feels the back of his neck turn red. Newton’s words are starting to slur together. “Wanna‘ve you bind me, strap a vibrator to my dick and - and leave me,” he swallows hard. He’s shivering. “Leave me until’m...begging and…”

Hermann schools his expression as he watches Newton struggling for breath and friction at once. “My God, Newton,” he says, keeping his voice even, “Are you going to come already?”

Newton’s eyes are clouded as he looks at him. “Need permission.”

Hermann’s mouth is dry. He swallows as discreetly as he can. Newton is practically vibrating by now. Hermann gestures toward his bunk. “Kneel by the bed.”

Newton scrambles toward the bed on his hands and knees, and Hermann sits on the side of the mattress, facing him. He reaches out and pets Newton’s hair, smirking as his eyes flutter at the contact. “I could make you come just by telling you to, couldn’t I?”

Newton is practically salivating. “Y-yes.”

Hermann nods. “But you’ve been such a good boy, you deserve more than that.” Newton leans his forehead against Hermann’s good knee. He’s panting, and Hermann thinks about what he’d said earlier, about being collared. He drags his nails lightly over the back of Newton’s neck, and Newton wimpers.

“Lean back,” Hermann says sharply, and Newton slings his weight back onto his heels. Hermann leans forward and wraps his hand around Newton’s cock. He slides his hand over it a few times, until Newton spreads his thighs, his eyes starting to roll backward.

“Such a good boy,” Hemann repeats, almost to himself, leaning forward farther to plant kisses on Newton’s throat. 

Newton makes a soft, choked off noise, and Hermann tells him, “You may speak.”

Newton takes a rattling breath and manages, “Please…” before dissolving into whimpers again.

Hermann nods, curling his fingers in the hair at the back of Newton’s neck as he begins to leave bite marks in his skin. “Go on,” he mutters against his jaw, and Newton heaves in his grip, come spilling over Hermann’s hand as he lets out a sound that Hemann is convinced is entirely beyond his control. He falls forward into Hermann’s lap and makes soft helpless noises as Hermann strokes his back.

Hermann waits until Newton sits back up before pulling his hand out of his lap, holding it out palm-up at level with Newton’s mouth. Newton takes the silent cue and opens his mouth, letting out a soft, pleased noise when Hermann pushes his fingers onto his tongue.

Newton obediently sucks his fingers clean before releasing them to lick Hermann’s palm. He uses short, dry licks, like a cat, until Hermann moves his hand out of Newton’s reach, running it through his hair. 

Newton is looking at him reverently, waiting to be told what to. His eyes dart to Hermann’s lap and he licks his lips, tongue darting out quickly - unconsciously, rather than than trying to be enticing.

Hermann opens his slacks, but doesn’t push them down. He feels powerful like this, fully dressed while Newton is covered only by his obnoxious tattoos. As he adjusts himself, he looks up to see Newton watching, his eyes glassy.

Hermann slides his fingers under Newton’s chin and tugs him forward. “Come on,” he says gently, his fingers curling around to cup the base of Newton’s skull. “There’s a good boy.” Newton follows easily, and Hermann’s eyes slide shut as he feels lips around the head of his cock. 

It’s been years since he’s had this, longer than Newton admits it’s been for him. He has to force his breathing to stay even as Newton drags his tongue under the head before pushing his mouth further down.

It’s good. It’s _very_ good. Newton had not let himself fall out of practice. His technique has a slow build, and Hermann’s eyelids flutter shut as Newton swallows down before sliding back up, tonguing the head for a moment before sliding back down. Hermann lets out a hum of approval, and Newton does it again, up and back, over and over, never quite the same action twice.

Hermann is starting to lose track of himself. It’s hard to focus on anything but the tight wet suction around his cock. His hips stutter, once, and Hermann feels the incredible sensation of Newton moaning around him. 

“Newton -” Hermann tries, but his voice is breathless and quiet and inaudible over his own breathing. He holds back when he feels his hips jerk a second time, and Newton whines, bobbing his head. Hermann’s body seems to interpret the message before his mind, bucking hard down Newton’s throat.

Hermann’s apology is drowned out by Newton’s keening as he crawls further into Hermann’s lap. Hermann’s hands clench in Newton’s hair and Newton’s eyes flutter shut. Hermann feels the soft vibration of a groan and tightens his grip. “Newton,” Hermann hisses again, holding Newton’s head still has he starts to thrust evenly into his mouth. Newton only relaxes his jaw and moans, a steady vibration coursing through Hermann’s entire body.

“God you’re s-so -” Newton’s tongue slides down to the base of Hermann’s cock and back up again, and Hermann feels his back arching. “ _Braver Hund_ ,” Hermann purrs, and Newton’s body shifts, Hermann’s cock sliding down the back of his throat.

Hermann’s entire body is on fire. He’s speaking, but the ringing in his ears is too much to hear the words that come out. Newton’s throat is working, swallowing hard around him, and Hermann can’t stop shaking. He hears his own babbling in the back of his mind, English and German slurred together as he fucks into Newton’s mouth.

He feels pressure on his bad leg, warm and solid, and looks down to see Newton holding it down firmly, keeping it from twisting and jerking. Keeping it from getting hurt.

“ _Schau mich an_ ,” Hermann hears himself say, and Newton’s eyes snap open, locking instantly with Hermann’s.

For a split second, nothing moves. The air around them freezes, and everything goes silent. Then Newton blinks, swallowing hard, and Hermann can’t hold on anymore.

When he comes, he expects Newton to pull off of him immediately, but he doesn’t. He slides up and back several times, until Hermann shudders violently and pushes at his chest. His feels heavy, and teeters slightly before falling back onto his elbows. Newton sits up to keep the same distance from him, watching Hermann’s face, waiting for approval.

“My God, Newton,” Hermann murmurs sleepily, reaching up to let his fingers play over Newton’s lips. He sucks a breath in through his teeth as Newton pulls one into his mouth and bites gently into the pad of it. “Looks like there’s a worthwhile reason for your mouth, after all.”

Newton beams and surges forward to kiss him. Hermann’s whole body is still thrumming, and the kiss is raw and greedy and makes him moan. Newton crawls forward and Hermann lets himself fall back onto the bed, dragging Newton over him so as not to break the kiss.

When Newton finally breaks away, it’s to tug briefly at Hermann’s collar with his teeth. Hermann feels heady and warm and Newton’s face is open, innocently pleading. Hermann nods and Newton attacks his buttons, opening the shirt without removing it. A compromise. Hermann runs an appreciative hand through Newton’s hair.

Newton moves to Hermann’s neck, first to nuzzle into his throat before he goes back to kissing, then biting. Hermann groans, and Newton moves on to his chest and stomach, using his tongue, lips and teeth to draw patterns over his skin. Hermann’s breath catches when Newton sinks his teeth into the skin just above Hermann’s hipbone, and Newton laps at the bite before starting his way back up.

Hermann feels dizzy. He runs his hands over every inch of Newton he can reach and whispers soft little approvals. Newton is all but trembling in his hands as he makes little paths with his tongue: stomach, chest, neck.

No one has doted on him this way before. Even Vanessa and Reese, who had both been loving and trusting partners, hadn’t been like this. It’s as if Newton has never wanted anything else in his life than to be Hermann’s gracious little pet.

Hermann blinks when he feels Newton’s cock hit his stomach.

“Are - are you hard again?”

Newton whimpers. He stops kissing at Hermann’s neck and buries his face into his shoulder, as if to hide. “Yes, sir.”

“I haven’t _touched_ you, you greedy thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Newton whines, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just -” Hermann’s fingers trail over Newton’s dick, and Newton falls abruptly silent. With a smirk, Hermann wraps his hand around him, rolling his fingers in strong, firm strokes.

It isn’t too long before Newton groans and starts to shift, struggling to sit up, but Hermann wraps his free hand around the back of his neck and pushes him closer. “Stay,” he whispers, his lips brushing against Newton’s as he speaks, “Come on me, go on.”

Newton inhales sharply and freezes for an instant, his eyes wide. “Hermann -” his voice is so quiet Hermann almost feels it more than he can hear it.

He doesn’t know why it affects him, hearing his name now, in that timid tone of voice. It burns though him the way being called ‘sir’ in the lab the first time had. He growls and moves his fist harder, faster, until Newton comes with a yelp. 

Hermann feels it hit his stomach and run over his fingers, and his eyes slide shut. His whole body is tingling as if he’s just come, himself. He lets out a long, deep breath and releases his hold on Newton’s neck.

Newton automatically slides down Hermann’s stomach, presumably to lick him clean, but Hermann stops him, grabbing his neck again. He doesn’t open his eyes. “In a moment,” he says, his voice raw as his fingers slide idly over the mess on his skin. “Not just yet.”

He feels Newton’s eyes on him and quirks one open to gauge his reaction. He looks startled, so Hermann closes his eyes again before muttering, “You may speak.”

“Oh, uh -” Newton swallows and clears his throat. His voice sounds as if he hasn’t used it in days. “I’m just…” he falls silent, and Hermann smirks.

“Not like you to be at a loss for words, pet.”

“Ha,” Newton says sarcastically, and Hermann smiles crookedly at how easily they fall back into their usual dynamic. Newton continues, dropping heavily into Hermann’s side, “I just - do you even realize how undeniably sexy you look right now?”

Hermann can’t recall ever being called ‘sexy’ before, and the phrasing startles a laugh out of him. When he opens his eyes to look back at Newton, he looks as if he’s been slapped. Hermann sits up on his elbows. “What is it now?”

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before,” he says, “You’re like, grinning.”

Hermann feels the back of his neck turn red. “Don’t get used to it,” he snaps teasingly, but he can already feel another playing at the corners of his mouth.

It’s quiet for a long time, and Hermann eventually assumes Newton has fallen asleep. He’s starting to drift off, himself when he hears a soft murmur at his side, “Too late.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hermann hasn’t seen Newton outside of the lab in over seventy-two hours. He knows he comes home, because he’s freshly showered and dressed every time Hermann comes downstairs, but he never makes it to the barracks before Hermann falls asleep, and he always leaves before he wakes up.

It’s been over a month since Hermann backed Newton into his desk and kissed him, and while they’ve had sex several times since that night, none of the experiences have had the same clear lines of domination and submission, and Hermann is starting to think Newton needs a realignment.

Newton has been oddly quiet the past three days, and while those who don’t know him well would assume it was because he was concentrating on his work, Hermann knows it’s quite the opposite. Hermann would be surprised if he’s gotten anything at all done in the past three days.

He’s harried, frazzled, and needs to be corrected.

They’re working in the lab, Hermann quietly staring at an equation while Newton silently works his hands into a kaiju kidney. Hermann gives up trying to concentrate and puts his chalk down. “Newton,” he says evenly, and the quiet squelching of kaiju innards stops abruptly. “I have something for you.”

“Huh?”

“Take your gloves off and come here.”

Newton blinks, but quickly follows orders, tossing his plastic gloves into his trashcan and half-jogging over the line to Hermann’s side of the lab. “What’d you get me?” he asks curiously, looking behind Hermann, as if expecting him to be holding it behind his back.

Hermann rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk, opening a drawer. “Close your eyes,” 

Newton smirks. “What is this?” he asks, and Hermann notes with some frustration that his eyes are still open.

“I said to close your eyes,” he says with a glare, and Newton makes sure Hermann sees him roll his eyes before he closes them. Hermann decides not to comment. “All right,” he says, pulling the gift out of its drawer and walking toward him. “Stand still.”

“You’re making me nervous, dude.” Newton says, an unsure laugh in his voice, and Hermann nods, knowing Newton can’t see him. When he’s close enough, he slides the collar over Newton’s throat and buckles it shut.

Newton sucks in an audible breath and his eyes snap open, meeting Hermann’s just as he’s sliding his fingers between Newton’s throat and the leather. 

“Is that too tight?” Hermann asks gently, running his fingers over the silver buckle. Newton shakes his head wordlessly. His eyes are wide, staring openly at him, his breathing quiet and shallow.

Hermann smiles at him, his hand rolling up from Newton’s neck to cup his face. “You look stunning, my love,” he tells him sweetly, and Newton’s mouth quirks up at one side for a moment, flattered. Hermann keeps talking, running his hands through Newton’s hair. “It’s very smart on you.”

Newton’s eyes slide shut as Hermann scratches gently into his scalp, his voice barely a whisper. “Such a good boy. _My_ good boy.”

Newton lets out a soft, warm noise that Hermann feels vibrate in his fingers. Hermann leans forward and kisses him, gently, waiting patiently for him to respond before pulling away. “Come, darling,” he says sweetly, looping his finger through the D ring, “We’re retiring early for the night.”

Newton looks back at his desk, but doesn’t argue, falling into step behind Hermann as he drops his hold on the collar in favour of his cane. He doesn’t need to lead Newton. He knows to follow.

When they get to their bunk, Hermann sits back on the edge of his bed before motioning for Newton, who shuffles obediently to the bed. Hermann casually opens his jeans and pushes them down before leading Newton out of them. 

When Newton moves to kneel in front of him, Hermann grabs his wrist, tugging him until he sits in between his legs with his back against Hermann’s chest. Hermann takes his time, petting his hair, kissing his throat, whispering things against his skin. “My good boy, such a well-behaved little thing you are.”

Newton twists around in Hermann’s grip until Hermann braces an arm over his chest. “Stay,” he says firmly, and Newton falls still. He nuzzles into Hermann’s neck, fists clenching into the cloth of his slacks in pure anticipation. Hermann tisks, one hand rolling over the collar to slide his finger through the D ring again.

“Relax, pet. Be patient. I haven’t had you in days, I want to take my time.” He unbuttons Newton’s shirt and lets Newton shrug out of it, running his hands tenderly over the ink on his back, down his sides, over his chest.

Newton hums, melting into his chest, the tighter Hermann holds him, the calmer he seems, until Hermann has him pressed so tightly into himself that Newton’s head lolls back onto Hermann’s shoulder and his eyes fall shut.

Hermann’s never seen him look so serene before. One of his hands trail up from around Newton’s midsection to touch his face, and Newton’s eyes open lazily, watching Hermann’s fingers before flicking up to his face. 

The air is charged with something Hermann doesn’t quite comprehend, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything embarrassing. _You’re beautiful. I love you._ Instead, he reaches out and gathers Newton’s wrists in his other hand, pressing the arm back across Newton’s chest. “Don’t move.”

At the order, Newton goes rigid, but Hermann shakes his head, shushing him gently. “No, darling, relax.” Newton’s body goes slack, and Hermann listens quietly as his breathing slows. He waits patiently, his free hand roaming over every inch of Newton’s skin in long, firm strokes. 

He nuzzles into Newton’s throat, nipping gently at the skin just above the collar, and Newton sighs. “You’re such a good boy,” Hermann croons into his neck, “And now you’re just for me.” Newton shivers and Hermann sucks hard at a patch of skin just under his jaw.

“I don’t share, Newton. Do you understand?” The hand that had been traveling toward Newton’s legs flies up to latch onto the collar, and Newton whines as he tugs at it. “This means you’re mine. You belong to me.”

Newton’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out a low, soft groan. “Yes, sir.” His hips jerk back against Hermann, and he mewls at the feel of his erection. 

He does it again - over and over - almost involuntarily, until Hermann hisses through his teeth. “Stop.”

Newton freezes and whines, and Hermann has to steel himself before he can tisk and pet Newton’s hair. “You’ll have everything you need in time,” he says reassuringly, “Be patient. I’m going to take care of you. Just be still.”

Newton whimpers, and Hermann kisses down his neck as he slides his hand back down between his legs.

He rolls his fingers practically the moment he wraps them around Newton’s cock, and Newton slumps back into Hermann’s chest. 

“Such a good boy,” Hermann whispers into his skin, dragging his hand up and down, “I’ll take care of you, always take care of you.” Newton is shaking almost too hard for Hermann to keep a hold of him, Hermann’s words apparently affecting him just as much as his touch.

His mouth is moving, forming words that never reach his tongue, so Hermann presses a kiss to his ear and says gently, “Speak.”

“I - I want…” Hermann prepares to tell him no, they’ve only just gotten started, but Newton takes a breath and finishes timidly, his voice straining, “Would you kiss me?”

Hermann feels something flutter in his chest at the question. He he leans forward, pressing Newton closer to his chest to give him the right angle as he slides his mouth over Newton’s.

Newton sags into the kiss with a soft sound, Hermann’s fingers still rolling over his cock until he’s vibrating in Hermann’s arms. He answers the kiss with an unexpected level of tenderness, as if he’s wanted it for years - as if they hadn’t already done this dozens of times. 

Warmth is seeping into Hermann’s skin, his face flushing at the helpless sounds Newton makes against his mouth. He loses himself for a moment, nearly dropping his grip on Newton’s wrists to run his hands over his face, his shoulders, chest, anywhere.

Newton melts into him, sighing, pliant, and Hermann tightens his grip again, just to hear him moan.

Newton’s hips are starting to jerk in Hermann’s grip, and Hermann pulls away, lips still dragging over Newton’s as he says in a firm, quiet voice, “Come for me.” 

Newton makes a sound as if the wind has been knocked out of him, and Hermann feels his hand go slick. Smiling, he presses a kiss onto the corner of Newton’s mouth. “Such a good boy,” he says again.

Shivering, Newton twists in Hermann’s grip, but Hermann only holds him tight and growls low against his skin, “I am not yet through with you.”

Newton goes limp and whines. Hermann continues to roll his fingers over Newton’s cock until his breath cuts off into a choked sob. He lifts his hand to Newton’s mouth and lets him suck greedily at his fingers until they’re clean.

Hermann hums to himself, tucking his fingers between the leather and Newton’s skin and giving the collar a sharp tug. “On your back, pet.”

Newton scurries quickly until he’s lying flat on his back, and Hermann stretches out beside him, splaying a hand over Newton’s stomach. Newton curls automatically into Hermann’s chest, and Hermann feels his resolve slip at the feel of skin to skin, and lets him.

Newton wraps his arms around Hermann and nuzzles sleepily into his neck, already mewling before Hermann even slides a single finger inside him.

Newton’s body jolts, and he cries out, his nails digging hard into Hermann’s back. “G - God, oh God, I - I’m… _fuck_.”

“I haven’t given you permission to speak,” Hermann says gently, pushing in a second finger.

Newton nods, shivering, and falls silent.

Hermann waits until he slides a third finger in, Newton’s eyes starting to roll back in his head, before he has the bravery to speak, his words are muffled by leather and skin, but his voice is more even than he thought he could’ve hoped. “Do you love me?”

Newton jerks back again. His jaw works frantically for a few seconds before he manages, “Wh - what?”

Hermann’s bravado falters, and he covers it by tugging at the collar with his free hand before repeating himself. “Do you love me?”

He feels Newton nod and forces himself not to let out a breath where Newton can feel it. “Speak.”

“Y - yes, sir,” Newton whimpers, his whole body shaking as he twists against Hermann’s fingers. 

Hermann is shaking his head before he even realizes it. “Tell me.”

One of Newton’s hands reaches up to dig into Hermann’s shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbles softly, his voice blurring as Hermann pays particularly rough attention to his prostate. “I do, I - _fuck_.”

Hermann smirks, feeling a warmth spread in his chest. Newton's jaw is still working, trying to say something, so Hermann firmly repeats, "Speak."

Newton groans. "Always - always did," he keens, "When we were kids, the - the letters..."

Hermann isn't expecting that. He feels blush creep up his neck. They don't really discuss their past. They tend to act as if they only ever met on their first day in the PPDC for the sake of embarrassment over their miserably failed friendship, the first time around. Newton doesn't even look as if he's realizing what he's saying anymore.

"I wanted you so - so much, I - I remember looking you up online and thinking -" He breaks off and Hermann thinks he may have realized himself enough to be embarrassed, but he only slurs dizzily, "w - wanting..."

Hermann grins before he can think to school his expression. "Did you want to fuck me?"

Newton nods, but before Hermann can scold him he answers aloud, "Yes."

"Even after we met?" Hermann smirks. It's almost a joke.

Newton shivers and whines at something Hermann does with his fingers. "Almost kissed you."

Hermann pictures it for an instant, flushing at the thought of Newton lunging at him in lieu of a handshake. He smiles. Back in 2017, Hermann would've punched him for that.

"I would've," Newton says breathlessly, "If I hadn't been so afraid that - that you'd punch me."

Hermann laughs, and Newton looks at him with the strange mix of awe and pride he does every time Hermann smiles at him. 

Hermann shifts his hand and Newton lets out a low breath, edged with faded words. Hermann watches him for a moment, moaning and shivering, before slowing his fingers to a stop out of innocent curiosity.

Newton whines and begins to move on his own, babbling quietly under his breath. Hermann's eyes widen as he watches Newton fuck himself on his hand, neck bared and hands fisted in the sheets.

"Please," he whispers, and Hermann shakes his head.

"I won't reward you for disobeying me, Newton."

Newton takes a deep breath and whimpers, forcing himself to go still. Hermann shakes his head again. "No, go on, do it yourself." He runs his free hand through Newton’s hair. “I’m waiting.”

Newton whines and pushes down on Hermann's hand, slowly at first but he quickly falls into it, thrusting back against Hermann's hand with a nearly consistent low moan radiating from his chest. He's mumbling, but none of the words are clear, except "Please."

Hermann watches, smiling smugly to himself as Newton starts to writhe. "God, you absolute slut," Hermann says teasingly.

Newton's reaction is unexpected, shuddering hard enough for Hermann to look and make sure he hadn't come without permission. "Yes," he hisses, seemingly to himself.

He reaches up and touches the collar briefly before reaching up and clenching his fist in Hermann’s shirt. He swallows once before grinding out, “Yours.”

With a tilt of his head, Hermann asks coolly, “Are you?”

Newton seems to start nodding before the words are even out of Hermann’s mouth. “Yes, sir,” he says breathlessly, still fucking himself on Hermann’s hand, “Yes, yours, all yours, sir.”

Hermann regards him for a moment before answering, “Show me.”

To Hermann’s surprise, the order causes Newton to sit up and roll Hermann on his back, dropping his hand back onto the bed. Hermann hasn’t even reoriented himself from the change in position when he feels Newton ripping open his slacks.

He bows into Hermann and wraps his mouth around his cock, bobbing his head up and down a few times before Hermann starts to thrust shallowly down his throat. Hermann is starting to feel a coil of heat behind his navel when Newton pulls off.

"What -?" Hermann starts, but Newton is scrambling onto his lap, trapping Hermann between his knees before sitting back slowly onto his cock with a groan.

"Newton," Hermann says in a breath, sitting up onto his elbows to watch as Newton pushes himself up and down, "Newton, my God, I - I can't -" He reaches up to grasp Newton's hips, but Newton takes one of his hands and leads it up to the collar on his neck.

Hermann sucks in a breath, clenches his fist around leather and tugs down. Newton is whimpering, constant and desperate, and Hermann trails his other hand up to Newton's mouth, dragging his fingers over his lips. 

Newton kisses them, in between heavy breaths, and Hermann’s head is spinning. Newton is moving faster, keening, and Hermann can feel him trembling. He moves his hand to Newton’s cheek and pulls him into a quick kiss before pressing his forehead to Newton’s.

Hermann’s skin is like a raw nerve, singing along the edge of pain and pleasure until he can no longer tell which one he feels. Newton is holding onto him, fingers curled into his hair, kissing sloppily at his neck and face, curling into the crook of his shoulder and whimpering.

Every touch is electric and he can’t stop running his hands over Newton’s skin, can’t ever seem to get enough air in his lungs. Newton rides him faster, whispering half-words into Hermann’s neck as he starts shivering in his arms. Hermann hears “please” and it sets fire to his spine.

He shakes his head, and Newton moans, throwing his head back as he moves harder, presses closer. He buries his face into Hermann’s neck and starts to ramble again. Hermann pulls him closer to listen.

He hears snatches of German and English thrown together. “...be such a good pet,” he babbles helplessly, “Lemme be _Ihren Hund_ , please. Please, _Ich werde_...I want…”

Hermann’s resolve is slipping. His blood feels as if it’s boiling in his veins and he can’t focus on anything but the way Newton feels and tastes, the sweet strain to his voice when Hermann moves against him. 

He tilts his head and drags his tongue over Newton’s throat, sweat and skin, feeling a thrill in the way Newton’s voice gets higher, the way his words slur together into incoherency. He manages, “Perfect, you’re - you’re so - fuck, _please_ , Hermann, give you anything, please, I…” before all Hermann can hear are soft broken little moans.

Hermann tugs Newton back by the collar to watch him squirm, his other hand still cupping the side of his face. Newton’s eyes are trained on him, barely blinking, and Hermann never wants Newton to stop looking at him that way.

Newton nods. Through panting breaths, Hermann hears, “Yes, sir.”

“ _Du bist schön,_ ” Hermann hears himself say. He doesn’t know how long he’s been speaking, but Newton is staring at him, enraptured with his every word. Hermann nods. "Go on," he says, his voice cracking. 

Newton shakes his head and whines. "You," he manages, his voice rough and quiet. 

Hermann smiles. "No," he says, his voice coming out in a croak. He tightens his grip on Newton's collar. "Now." 

Newton swears. Hermann sits up higher, expectant, as Newton comes over his stomach and falls heavily into his shoulder. Newton squirms against him, moaning sleepily against his neck and kissing his jaw.

"C'mon, Hermann..." Newton whispers pleadingly, still sounding as desperate as he had before. "I need - I need you to come."

"God," Hermann pulls Newton close as his hips stutter and he's coming, hard enough that he hears Newton cry out against his neck just before everything goes white.

When Hermann realizes himself, he’s lying flat on his back again, Newton curled into his chest, his hips still rolling slowly against Hermann’s, riding out Hermann’s orgasm more than his own. Hermann runs a hand over Newton’s back, watching curiously as he shivers at the touch, but saying nothing. 

There’s silence for a long time, broken only by their breathing. Newton’s eyes are closed, but his breath continues to hitch every so often, quiet little pleased sounds still escape his mouth. Hermann reaches up and drags his thumb over the swell of Newton’s cheek.

Newton hums happily, but otherwise doesn’t move, and Hermann isn’t even entirely sure he’s awake any longer. When his leg starts to ache he wriggles around a little and is able to shift Newton off of him easily, but Newton only curls tightly against his side and lets out a contented sigh.

Hermann knows he should get some sleep as well, but Newton has never looked so peaceful or perfect, sleeping quietly against Hermann’s side with a collar stark and black against the pale untarnished skin of his neck. He runs his hand over the collar, his hand resting over his throat gently.

He leans forward before he even realizes it and places a kiss on Newton’s temple. “Mine,” he murmurs to himself, fingers trailing down to the D-ring of the collar.

To his surprise, Newton lets out a warm sleepy grunt. When he smiles, eyes still shut, Hermann can’t tell if it’s because of Hermann’s words or if Newton can tell he’d startled him and found humor in it. “All yours,” he mumbles, barely audible in his drowsiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! I've just been kind of busy, I have a friend staying with me for the holidays and I haven't had a lot of time to write but I've been meaning to give a second chapter to this fic for a while now so ta-da~ I hope the German reads as such:
> 
> Ihren Hund: your dog  
> Ich werde: I will  
> Du bist schön: you're beautiful
> 
> Anyway I have a flight to Chicago to leave for in four hours and I haven't slept lmao OH WELL;;;

**Author's Note:**

> this...got a bit out of hand. Halfway through that first page of writing I suddenly realized I hadn't written any D/s for this fandom yet and it's my favourite sooo.... Eleven pages later and I probably went a little overboard. Sorry.
> 
> German translates to:  
> "Good dog"  
> "Look at me."
> 
> title from "Shut Me Up" by Mindless Self Indulgence


End file.
